To Love: A Tale of Womanhood
by Godric's Heiress
Summary: She was getting old. Her life lay behind her, a scrapbook of love and heartbreak, joy and despair, tragedy and freedom. This is her story…the story of one of the greatest witches of the age-Minerva McGonagall. Canon compatible.
1. Beginnings

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and co. I did create Brenna and Patrick McGonagall however.

Plot description:

She was getting old. Her life lay behind her, a scrapbook of love and heartbreak, joy and despair, tragedy and freedom. This is her story…the story of one of the greatest witches of the age-Minerva McGonagall. Canon compatible.

A/N: I'll keep this short, but as you can probably gather from the description, this is a story about the life of Professor McGonagall. Right now, I'm thinking it will be about five or six chapters long. I can't guarantee when it will be updated, but I will hope for once every week or two. Anyway, on with the story and I hope you enjoy!

**Beginnings**

She had never felt so old. Yet another year had begun at Hogwarts, and this year had a strange foreboding of being her last. She'd been Headmistress for nearly thirty years now and just yesterday Harry Potter's young daughter had started Hogwarts. She could scarcely believe it. Why, it seemed only yesterday Harry had started Hogwarts himself, and only days before that it'd been James. Why, that first year she'd taught James' father had been a seventh year! It was undeniable. She was old.

She buried her head in her hands. There was so much work to be done. Paperwork to sign, permission forms to verify, students to meet. The Ministry to deal with. The times were nearly as dark as they had been during the Second War. This time, however, the enemy was very different. The corruption in the Ministry had reached levels previously unseen. She desperately hoped the right candidate would be elected in the next election that spring, even if he was reluctant. The corruption had to be dealt with one way or another.

"Cheer up, Minerva," sniffed a painting on the wall in front of her. "You've not nearly as much to worry about as I did when I was Headmaster…you're a Gryffindor. Everyone loves you."

"Thank you, Phineas," she replied stiffly, "You've been such a help." She snorted, and turned back to her paperwork.

"Honestly, no appreciation," muttered Phineas disdainfully, his nose in the air. There was a deep throated chuckle from a portrait below and to the right of him.

"You be quiet, Albus Dumbledore," she huffed.

"But where's the fun in that?" he twinkled. She glared. "You mustn't get so stressed, my dear. That glare is not becoming." He reached down and tried unsuccessfully to remove a lemon drop from his beard.

"How can I not be, Albus! I'm old…too old for this." She threw up her hands and looked around the room.

"Not nearly as old as I was, Minerva."

"You're bloody Albus Dumbledore. Greatest wizard in the world and all that rot," she said incredulously. He chuckled.

"I have always found that taking time to one's self is the best cure for thinking too much. Whether it be to eat a lemon drop, knit a sock, or play Quidditch, whatever you take a fancy to, my dear."

"You're quite mad you know, Albus. Nearly as much help as Phineas." She went back to her paperwork and studiously ignored the protraits.

"We shall see, Minerva. One day you'll be quite mad too." He was still twinkling. Stupid old men.

By the end of the week, however, she was not so sure of this. The first week of term had proved to be one of the more…trying weeks she had endured as Headmistress. Lily and Hugo were proving to be nearly as much of a handful as their parents and twin uncles combined. In their first week of school, they'd set dungbombs all along the Charms corridor twice, stuck all of the bedpans to the hospital wing ceiling with Muggle super glue, painted moustaches on all of the Gryffindor third year's faces while they slept and decimated half the Potions classroom with a well placed Whizbang. There was no doubt about it; they would be trouble. Their antics were certainly causing headaches. Minerva already felt like she could use a holiday. It was this feeling, more than anything, that had kept Albus' advice in her head. But she was determined not to give in.

So it was very late and she was very tired when she finally managed to drag herself into bed that first Saturday of term. She traipsed through the day in a haze, too tired to properly concentrate and too busy to properly relax. It was not surprising, then, that she quickly found herself deep in dreamland.

_"Minnie! Minnie! Look what I found! It's a pretty red ladybird! Look at the lovely spots, Minnie!" A little girl with shining eyes and pretty curls was holding her hand out, a tiny ladybug sitting in her palm. She was fascinated by it, her small mouth round with awe. Minnie grinned at her._

_"She's lovely, Brenna. Put her back in the garden like a good girl. Mama doesn't like bugs, you know."_

_The little girl frowned, confused. "But she's not a bug, Minnie. She's a ladybird."_

_Minnie laughed. "Silly goose. Ladybirds are bugs."_

_The scene faded, and a boy laughed. Minnie spun around, and there was the same little girl, a bit older now, sitting on an older boy's lap. "Oooh. Tell it again, Pat! Tell it again!"_

_"I've already told it three times, Brenna," the boy sighed._

_"Tell the story again, Patrick," said Minnie wistfully. "You're such a good storyteller. Just once more, please."_

_"Well, alright…but don't tell Papa we let Brenna stay up so late."_

_Suddenly, there were flames everywhere. Patrick yelled again and again, hanging out the window, for someone, anyone, to help them. His wand was snapped and burned, half ashes, and poor Minnie was only just eleven, Brenna even younger. Minnie was huddled in a corner, sobbing, Brenna was screaming and shrieking in another room. They couldn't get to her. There was no way. She screamed again. "Minnie! Patrick! Mama! Papa! Help!" But no help would come._

Back at Hogwarts, Minerva shot up with a gasp, her face tearstained, her breathing ragged. She hadn't thought, or dreamed of her family in years. Little Brenna had died in that housefire, and she hadn't spoken to Patrick since…but she wouldn't think of it. She determindly tried to go back to sleep.

But sleep would not come. The old memories haunted her until she was obliged to rise and seek out her old albums. She opened up the first one and gazed at the page full of pictures. There was Brenna with a ladybird, and there on Patrick's knee. And one of her with Patrick, about to leave for school. So many memories she had tried to forget.

She kept flipping.

And flipping.

And she could not help it.

She cried.


	2. Minnie

Disclaimer: I obviously do not own any of the characters in this story aside from Brenna and Patrick McGonagall. I'm just playing with them for a bit!

A/N: Wow. For all those of you who read chapter one...I am extremely sorry. Sometimes real life is a bummer and mine has been super busy...however that doesn't excuse me making you wait like six months for chapter two!! Anyways, here it is, finally. I'll do what I can to get ch 3 up before I leave for camp at the end of June, but otherwise it will be up mid-August when I return. And I warn this has not been edited...

This chapter is dedicated to my one reviewer girl of ireland 44

I would appreciate reviews folks...even if all you say is hey, I read it. Please enjoy!

**Minnie**

_October 4, 1933_

_I'm 7 today! I'm a big girl now, so daddy gave me a diary for my birthday. Brenna was real jealous. She's only 4, see, just a baby, and super annoying. I also got a new kitty cat, so it'll be trained when I go to Hogwarts. It's only 4 years now. Patty, my brother, just started in September. Oh, and I got a new jump rope, and Patty sent me a birthday card all the way from school. It's a bit lonely with just me and Brenna here. But I've got Tabby to keep me company. I have to go now. It's supper time. We're having pasgetti and chocolate cake. Yum!_

Minerva stifled a laugh at the old journal entry. She could remember that day clearly. She'd made such a mess of her birthday dress with the red sauce and chocolate! And she remembered even more clearly the day her older brother Patrick had started Hogwarts. She gotten in such trouble.

_She tried to sit still; really, she did. But everything was so terribly interesting. At first, she just fidgeted on the bench beside her sleeping sister, but, well, that was awfully boring for an almost seven year-old. Her mommy was distracted helping her brother put his trunk on the train and she was bored. So she left Baby Brenna asleep on the bench and tiptoed across the platform._

_She found a lovely picture of a beautiful lady who was probably one of the singers she heard on the wireless every night and tucked it carefully in her pocket. She slipped between all the big people, mostly students carrying trunks as big as she was, and tickled the heads of a few cats. She watched the old conductor ringing the warning bell and turned to wake Brenna and wave at Patrick. Except….Brenna was no where in sight. She couldn't find the bench she'd left her sister on. Minnie turned around and around in circles, searching, and started to panic. There were people pressing all around her. Finally, feeling hopelessly lost, she screamed and started bawling._

_Her mother came running over, Brenna in one arm and Patrick trailing behind her. "Minerva Alice McGonagall! Didn't I tell you to stay on that bench?" Minnie nodded miserably. "Come here, dearest. Never scare me like that again, alright?" Minnie huddled against her mother and waved miserably at her brother as he climbed back on to the train. She'd only wanted to see everything._

She had been a curious child, and a happy one too, despite the challenges her parents had had raising three children in the midst of the Great Depression. They'd had little money to spare in those days, but her parents had done everything they could to make Brenna, Patrick and her happy. She remembered one Christmas in particular, during Patrick's first year.

_The tree was decked in a multitude of colours and it seemed to be overflowing with presents. The candles were stubby and dirty and the decorations were made of old bits of paper and wood, but the tree was bright and, to Minnie, the most beautiful thing in the world. They ate a wonderful breakfast, that, unbeknownest to the children, their parents had been saving for since the Christmas before, and each child received a plethora of gifts. Just little things, mind you, but special enough to make them happy. She didn't stop smiling the whole day._

_Later, just before bed, Minnie pulled out her birthday diary and wrote one short sentence. "It was the best Christmas you could ever ask for."_

Minerva didn't think she'd ever had a better Christmas. Her childhood had passed in a happy, oblivious blur. Minerva had been completely unaware of the rising tensions in the magical world. She'd been even less aware that her father's job put them right in the middle of it. He'd worked in the Department of International Magical Relations, and Minerva remembered many a day sitting in his office while people worked busily around her, rushing off to try and fix the world's problems. She'd thought her father was unstoppable. She'd thought the biggest problem in her world was picking more apples than Patrick when he could climb the trees and she couldn't. And then...

_She was eleven years old now, only a few months away from Hogwarts. Her brother was home for the holidays, and she was ecstatic to have him home. But he was distant, it seemed, fifteen, and completely aware that the world was not the utopia his sisters still saw. Their parents had gone out to a Ministry banquet and left Patty in charge. Around eight, Minnie and Patty put Brenna to sleep in her room. They went to the front room to play Gobstones, hoping Brenna wouldn't hear. That's when they saw the men. The men who set the fire. They didn't like her father's policies, Minnie learned later. So they'd come to destroy what he loved most; his children. The flames were nearly unbearable. Brenna had no hope._

_Three days later, Brenna Elizabeth McGonagall, just eight years old, was laid to rest in the earth. Minnie cried through the whole service. She didn't really understand what had happened. She went through the rest of the summer in a daze, unable to settle. By the time she started Hogwarts, she had withdrawn almost completely into herself. She was scared, lonely and lost. She missed Brenna. But she was brave. She would be okay._

Back in the present, Minerva pulled a tiny, faded picture out of a photo album and tucked it reverently into the corner of her mirror. The picture showed two little girls hugging an older boy. It had been taken only days before Brenna's tragic death and Minerva hadn't looked at the picture since her Hogwarts days. Now she would look at it every day.

"You were right, Albus, you old meddler," she whispered to the slumbering frame. "This is helping...and it's healing." But she would never admit it while he was awake.


	3. A Schoolgirl, Finally

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story aside from Brenna and Patrick McGonagall and Elly Gruel. I am just borrowing them for awhile.

A/N: Once again I am sorry for the delay in updating. I just started university. However, I hope to be able to finish this story by Christmas. Please review! I love hearing what people think of my story!

**A Schoolgirl, Finally**

"I am very disappointed in the two of you." Minerva was looking across her desk at the two tiny first years who had caused so much trouble and such a big headache for her. Nobody else, it seemed, knew what to do with them. "School has only been in session for two weeks, and you have already been into this office more times than I have fingers! I do hope this trend will not continue."

Lily and Hugo were looking at their feet, appearing contrite, but Minerva knew better. She had, after all, taught both their parents and scolded them on multiple occasions. And the pair were far too much like Fred and George than she cared to imagine. She stood and walked around her desk.

"Miss Potter, Mr. Weasley, look at me please." It took some coaxing, but finally, they looked at her. "You will both receive detentions with your head of house in which you will write an essay explaining why you have had such abominable behaviour the last few weeks before scrubbing out the entirety of the first floor girls bathroom. The detentions will continue until these tasks are finished." Both children groaned loudly. "In addition, you will lose 50 points from Gryffindor and I will be having a conference with your parents." Now the eleven-year-olds looked decidedly ill. "I will note however, that the magic used today was quite impressive for two students who have hardly begun their studies and if such displays are to continue, I would ask that you would please not get caught doing them."

The children looked at her, confused, before breaking into large grins. "Of course, Professor. We'll be sure not to get caught in the future," said Lily devilishly.

"See that you don't. You are dismissed." The children slipped out the door of her office, Lily grinning faintly at her in a mischevious way entirely too reminiscent of her namesake for Minerva's piece of mind, leaving Minerva sitting at her desk. She smiled vaguely as she remembered her own first weeks at Hogwarts. While she hadn't been nearly as troublesome as Lily Potter and Hugo Weasley, she imagined she'd caused more than a few headaches in those early weeks. There was that time with the ice corridor...

_It was her third week at school and Min was heartbreakingly homesick. She hadn't really made any friends yet, and she missed Brenna terribly. She desperately wanted to send her little sister a long letter telling her all about these first few wonderful, terrible weeks, but there would be no point. Brenna would never read it. This Wednesday afternoon, Min had finally allowed herself to descend into the solitary misery that had beckoned since the first day. She curled herself in a corner of the Charms corridor and sobbed her small heart out. She didn't even go to Transfiguration, and that was quickly proving to be her favourite and best class. Thankfully, no one came close._

_Unbeknowst to her, Min had accidentally transfigured the entire Charms corridor into ice with her intense desire to be alone. Several people tried to get across the ice, including the Charms professor, but fell over and ultimately gave up. Finally, Professor Dumbledore arrived. He waltzed calmly across the ice, calmed Min down and proceeded to show her how to remove the ice. After that, Professor Dumbledore became her hero. She thought he was completely unstoppable._

Minerva laughed at the memory. Oh, the headaches she must have caused poor Albus! Not just then, either. She remembered how he'd encouraged her to write that letter to Brenna and then burn it and how it had later become a spectacular fire that engulfed the entire Gryffindor common room. She also remembered how he'd told her friends were the most important thing in the world, and how she'd gone and made friends with Eleanor Gruel, better known as Elly, who happened to be the worst troublemaker at the school for years. The trouble they had gotten into was beyond funny. She remembered one incident in particular with exceeding fondness.

_It was Halloween and the perfect time for pranks according to Elly. Min was inclined to agree. After all, Halloween was the day of spirits. What better day to wreak havoc at Hogwarts? They had been planning this prank for weeks now and were both desperately hoping it would go off without a hitch. Min couldn't wait to see the looks on the Slytherin's faces when they turned pink. _

_At precisely 6:43 PM, Min nearly had a heart attack. The houselves, with whom Elly and Min had become friendly, were supposed to add the required potion only to the food going to the Slytherin table, but there was Professor Dumbledore turning a brilliant neon pink. She tugged on Elly's sleeve and they both turned to the head table in horror as every member of the faculty turned various shades of pink. The Slytherin table remained unharmed._

_Min and Elly were positive they would be expelled, sure their flushed faces would give them away. But they were never caught, despite the knowing twinkle in the eyes of more than one teacher._

There had been many worse pranks, certainly. And though this one had not gone according to plan, it had earned her and Elly respect. They were both brilliant students and nearly everyone had known the little first years had been responsible for the ingenious prank that had turned the teachers pink. She had loved the feeling. After that Halloween, Minerva had found herself missing Brenna less and remembering her more. It hadn't been easy, in fact it was rather terrible, but she had persevered. She had found her aptitude for Transfiguration that first year, and she had discovered how much she loved to learn. Of course, she had been pants at Potions, but it hadn't stopped her. She smiled softly.

Strangely though, she also held that memory dear for another reason. It had been the first time she had really noticed him. Tom Riddle. Not the man he would become, but the boy who had caught her eye and grinned as the professors turned pink. But she put that out of her mind as she began the letters requesting the presence of Lily and Hugo's parents at a meeting the following Saturday.


	4. Riddle Me This

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters presented in this story aside from Brenna, Patrick and Elly.

A/N: Guess what? Only two days!! I actually finished this hours after the last chapter. And chapter 5 is also already finished, so expect that next week. I warn you that this chapter is rather sad and does contain some MM/TMR. Also, be warned that there is a brief section near the end that involves sexual behaviour, but it is not explicit. Enjoy the chapter and please review!

**Riddle Me This**

Dear Mr. Potter,

I am writing to request the presence of you and your wife at a meeting concerning the behaviour of your daughter, Lily, and your nephew, Hugo, over the last weeks at Hogwarts. I will expect you promptly at ten on Saturday morning.

Sincerely,

Professor Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress of Hogwarts

Minerva put down her quill with a sigh. The face would not leave her alone. She kept remembering that smile, that tiny grin that had acknowledged her brilliance, that tiny grin that had sent her stomach to her knees. She wondered now why he had smiled at her. She wondered if maybe he saw a kindred spirit, someone else who had suffered and would maybe understand. She wondered if he had only seen someone he thought he could control. She wondered if he had sought comfort and she had failed him. She supposed it didn't matter. She had fallen for it either way.

Her head fell into her hands and she groaned in frustration. Some memories she could handle. She had begun to accept remembering Brenna. She had begun to appreciate reminiscing about her early years and Elly, Elly who she hadn't spoken to since she was seventeen, Elly who had been her best friend, Elly who had never forgiven her for this secret. She couldn't think of him. She didn't want to remember. But he wouldn't let her forget. After everything, she was still in love with him. With the him he had been for her, anyway, the boy no one else seemed to have seen. Maybe it had been an act, but that didn't change how she felt. And it had all started with that smile, that first Halloween, and then, here and there, a seat beside him in the library. And then the letters. _Dear Tom,_ she had written. Dear Tom. She wept.

_Dear Tom,_

_Thank you so much for your help in Potions today. I thought for sure I was going to blow all of us up. Do you know what the homework is? I was a bit distracted and forgot to copy it down._

_Min_

_Dear Minerva,_

_You're welcome. There wasn't any homework. I think Professor Slughorn was too distracted to assign any. You certainly are horrible at Potions._

_Tom_

_Dear Tom,_

_I'm not that bad! I could be worse. At least I didn't turn a match into an elephant instead of a needle! And call me Min!_

_Min_

_Dear Min,_

_Don't remind me._

_Tom_

_Dear Tom,_

_Sorry. Meet me under the Quidditch stands to study for that test tomorrow?_

_Min_

_Dear Min,_

_Of course._

_Tom_

It had been innocent enough then, she thought. Just two young students studying together, in secret of course, since no one would approve of a Gryffindor and a Slytherin being seen together, but it had been innocent. She'd been thirteen before she'd really noticed he was handsome, and it was a few months more before she really fell prey to his charms.

_Dear Min,_

_The Halloween Ball was lovely, don't you think? You dance beautifully._

_Tom_

_Dear Tom,_

_I do? Thank you. You were quite dashing yourself._

_Min_

_Dear Min,_

_Shall we meet to study on Saturday?_

_Tom_

_Dear Tom,_

_If we can go to Hogsmeade after. We'll go somewhere quiet. No one will see us._

_Min_

_Dear Min,_

_If you wish._

_Tom_

She remembered how her stomach had swooped when he'd written that she danced beautifully. She remembered how they'd gone to the Hogshead for butterbeer and gotten into such trouble for going somewhere students weren't allowed. She remembered how Professor Dumbledore had warned her to be careful, that Tom was dangerous, but she hadn't believed him. She remembered being furious when anyone spoke against him. She remembered how Patrick had told her he was worried, how he had thought she was maybe going Dark, and she had ignored him. She remembered summers, when he was at the orphanage and couldn't write and she worried and worried about him in London, where terrible things had happened. She remembered how she'd pushed people away and sat, in secret, with Tom and some others, listening, but not really hearing, to pureblood propaganda. She remembered, too, how cold he was sometimes, how distant and how she'd wondered if she'd done something wrong. She remembered, once or twice, being afraid of him, or something he'd said or done. But it hadn't stopped her from falling in love with him. She even remembered the date, even.

_It was April 17__th__, in her 4__th__ year. She was fifteen and she hadn't a care in the world but Tom. She had long since stopped the childish pranks with Elly, though Elly often begged her to participate, she always refused. It was late afternoon, and she was doing her homework with Tom. All he had done was smile, and she was lost. She was a sucker for that smile. She would do almost anything for that smile. She knew then, at 7:13 PM on April 17__th__ that she was in love with him. But she didn't tell him then, even when he asked if he could kiss her. Even when he did._

_She didn't tell him because she noticed how he was distant after, and she thought, just maybe, she'd seen his eyes flash red. So she kept silent, and waited._

Her head was still in her hands. She remembered his smile so keenly. She still didn't really understand. She remembered how, fifth year, he got more and more distant. She remembered, vaguely, mentions of Slytherin's heir, but she hadn't dwelled on them. She fought with him once, she remembered, and shivered.

_"Tom!" she yelled, frustrated. "Why do you never listen to me? I told you we had to meet to finish that project." She was furious._

_"You should have just finished it yourself." His voice was cold and distant._

_"Finished it myself?! I am not to be used Tom. I'm your girlfriend not your slave!! Sometimes I wonder..."_

_He cut her off. "Don't push me, Minerva." His voice was harder than ice and sharper than a knife. He hadn't called her Minerva since they were eleven. Suddenly she was frightened. "If you are quite finished, I will forget this happened. I will forget you dared to contradict me." He looked at her. "But don't expect me to forget again." She could only nod, and turn away. She didn't tell anyone. He was just like this sometimes. But she vowed never to argue with him again._

It hadn't been the only time Tom had been cold, distant, and terrifying. Then, she had told herself it was a phase, a quirk, that everything was fine. Now, she wondered if it was the other times that were a fluke, or even an act. After all, he had never really been kind.

Sixth year was the worst. Every day, she felt him slip further away. Soon, she was not welcome to sit with Tom and the others while they planned. Soon, it seemed he hardly ever spoke to her. She hadn't seen him smile in months. Desperate, she had finally told him the truth.

_"Tom?" she whispered. "May I speak with you?" He nodded curtly, a bit absently. She pulled him into a deserted room. "Tom...Tom, I love you. I..." Her eyes filled with tears._

_He looked up in surprise, but slowly, he smiled. She thought the smile was a bit different, but it was still a smile. He kissed her, and whispered in her ear, "I love you, too." "Come with me," he said later, and they snuck into a secret room and lay down, together, on the bed._

_She was unsure, at first, but as he kissed her, she let go. She let him unrobe her. She let him inside her. It hurt more than she'd imagined, and he was rougher than she wanted, but she couldn't tell him to stop. And when she looked into his eyes, her heart burned, because they weren't even looking at her. They were cold, calculating and distant._

_After, he rolled over and closed his eyes, his arm tight around her waist. He never looked at her. Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to cry. Heart aching, she fell asleep._

_It wasn't until she woke up the next morning, naked and alone, that she realized he'd been lying._


	5. Self Destruct

Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters do not belong to me. They belong to the brilliant mind of one JK Rowling.

A/N: Three chapters in a week! Aren't you all pleased with me? This is the last complete chapter at the moment, but depending on how school and life go for me, I will try to get another chapter written and posted in the next week or two. There are only two or three more chapters.

Warning! There are allusions to sexual and adult behaviour in this chapter. Minerva hits her lowest point here, but don't worry, things will begin to get better in the near future.

Please enjoy the story and please please please review! They make me feel special! :P

**Self-Destruct**

_That day was one of the worst in her life. She'd lain there for hours, huddled under the blankets, too hurt to seek out the sunlight. She'd lain there and waited, waited, waited, hoping that he would maybe come back, that maybe there was some reason other than this. That this hadn't happened. Around noon, someone came in. Min looked up hopefully, but it was only Elly. She buried her head in the pillows._

_"Come on, Min," Elly was saying. "What's wrong? You missed Transfiguration. Why are you in here? What's happened? Please talk to me." Elly seemed concerned, but Min just shook her head. "Min, please." But Min didn't answer. "Who did this, Min?" she whispered._

_She sat up in a fury. "No one!" she yelled. "No one did this! It was my fault. Just go away, Elly. I wouldn't expect you to understand." Her eyes were blazing, and her heart was hurting._

_"I just want to help, Min." whispered Elly._

_"I don't want your help! I don't! Just GO!"_

_And Elly had left. She hadn't come back either. Min sat alone, tears streaming down her face, until it was dark. And then, as if in a trance, she'd walked back to her dormitory and huddled in the darkness there instead._

Minerva's vision was blurring. That day had been little more than a blur. It had been the end of so many things. It had been the last time that Elly had spoken to her, as if her angry words had harmed their friendship irrevocably. Maybe it was simply that Minerva had hurt too much to respond. It was the last day, she thought, that Patrick had looked at her with something akin to respect, the last day before things had spun completely out of her control. It was the day she realized Tom didn't love her, the day she realized he never had. It wasn't the next day until she realized what a fool she'd been.

_She'd entered the Great Hall that morning feeling more than a little out of place. Her heart felt as if it had been torn up into tiny shreds and taped back together by a three-year-old. She sought out Elly, as always, but Elly refused to meet her eyes. She found Professor Dumbledore's eye, and he was frowning at her. She knew her eyes were still red and her hair was a mess. She looked at her shoes, and then, finally, looked for Tom. He was sitting in the middle of the Slytherin table, head high like a little prince. She wondered that she hadn't noticed it before. And then he met her eyes. He smirked at her and beckoned her with his eyes. They were still cold, and the smile she loved was gone. He seemed to be saying, "Come here, my dear. I know you still want me. I know you love me. I know you'll do what I want. Come here." With immense effort, she lifted her eyes and turned away. She plunked herself in a seat, alone, at the end of the Gryffindor table. If she'd looked back, she would have seen he was furious._

A single tear found it's way down Minerva's cheek, and she swiped it away angrily. She would not cry over Tom. She would not cry over someone who had used and abused her, who had pretended to love her so she would do everything he wanted her to. She was ashamed. She had almost been another Narcissa Malfoy, another clone obeying every word her husband told her. She had almost been the Dark Lord's mistress. She shuddered. She hated herself for that. She hated herself for letting Tom ruin her last years at school. She'd been a walking zombie after him. She had no friends, she never spoke to Patrick, hardly wrote to her parents. Once top of her class, she was almost failing. She felt detached, and she couldn't help but watch Tom hold court. She, once brilliant, once promising, had left Hogwarts a shadow, with few NEWTS and nothing for herself but a low-paying job at Flourish and Blotts.

_It was unfortunate really, that he'd been working on the Alley too. She spent the hours when she wasn't working watching him at a distance, watching him manipulate others, watching him get what he wanted. It hurt her terribly to watch him. Her heart still fluttered when she saw him, but she only watched. She would not be a trophy._

_It continued like that for a few years. Her parents died, close together, a year or two after she graduated. Patrick grew farther away from her. Soon, she rarely saw him. She continued to obsess over Tom._

_One day, she heard the story of poor Hepzibah Smith and her house elf. She knew Hepzibah Smith had just doted on Tom. And now she was dead. And Tom was gone. No one else seemed to make the connection. Her heart blazed with fury. And she'd left too._

Minerva found herself sobbing harder than she ever remembered sobbing before. She couldn't stop, but the memories hurt too much. She just kept crying.

The portraits were alarmed. They all tried to speak to her, but she didn't respond. Finally, Albus spoke. "Minerva," he said. "Minerva, isn't this what you need?"

She looked up at him, infuriated. "No! No!" she screeched. "Why couldn't you have just left it alone. I don't need to remember this! I don't! There are things even you don't know about Albus! There are things I never told anyone. And I don't want to remember them. They hurt too much!!" She threw an inkpot at the frame. It bounced off and broke on the floor. Still sobbing, she collapsed on the floor. All of the portraits were whispering, and Albus' seemed confused.

And then she remembered the rest of it. She remembered how she'd vowed to find Tom and stop his evil. She remembered how she'd vowed never to use magic again when she couldn't. She remembered how she'd flitted from place to place, trying to find somewhere where she could settle. She remembered drinking. She remembered how free it made her feel. She remembered the men. She remembered frantic nights in bathroom stalls, wishing that this wasn't happening. She remembered the night when, finally, her worst fears had come true. She remembered being terrified. She remembered wandering. But most of all she remembered coming home.

_Patrick still lived in the house her parents had lived in since Brenna's death. It wasn't large, but it was enough for Patrick and his wife. Minerva couldn't even remember her name. She was shaking like a leaf, and she knew she looked like the smallest of winds might blow her away. Nearly crying, hands shaking, she pounded on the door. It was 3 AM._

_After awhile, Patrick opened the door. "Minerva! Minerva, what are you doing here? It's three o'clock in the morning." He didn't sound particularly angry, more worried. "Is something wrong? Are you drunk?"_

_It was such a funny question, Minerva laughed. "No," she whispered, her voice catching in her throat. "No, I'm not drunk. I'm pregnant." And then she fainted._


	6. The Little Things

Disclaimer: Once again, the characters in this story do not belong to me.

A/N: I am terribly sorry that it had taken me so long to write and post this chapter. I did not anticipate the amount of work I would have my first semester of university. But I finally sat down and wrote chapter 6 (when I should have been studying, mind you), and here it is. I don't think it is my best work, but these things happen.

This will be the second last chapter of this story. The final chapter will focus only briefly on Minerva's teaching career, but will focus mostly on her acceptance of the past and her choices. I will try to have this chapter written and posted before New Year's.

Once this story is complete, I have several other ideas to pursue, and I plan to go over this story as well and make revisions where necessary (inconsistencies, spelling, etc.)

Finally, the baby's name (Aithne) is pronounced Ain-ya.

Anyway, enjoy the chapter, and please leave a review!

**It's The Little Things**

It was ten o'clock in the morning on the third Saturday of term. Minerva was sitting behind her desk, smiling fondly at the faces of four of her favourite former students, and trying not to think about her breakdown last Wednesday. She focused her former students and nearly laughed when she realized how reminiscent of past detentions this scene was, especially considering the chagrined looks on the faces of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley and the angry one on Hermione Weasley's. Ginny simply looked amused. Minerva believed the years these former students, now friends, and their siblings had been at Hogwarts to be the most challenging, terrifying and rewarding years in her entire teaching career. She thought the next few might give them a run for their money.

"Well," said Hermione, still looking a bit angry, "I guess we shouldn't be surprised. I've long thought Lily and Hugo were far too much like the twins for their own good. And to much like what I've heard of Harry's dad. And, well, us, I suppose. Always looking for adventure." She grinned at her husband and best friends.

"Yes, I'm quite sure Miss Potter and Mister Weasley are well on their way to overtaking the twins and James Potter when it comes to mischief. You four on the other hand, I hope they never catch up to," Minerva replied. "I'm also sure we will now have a much more difficult time catching them."

"Gave them the old 'You can't get punished for what I can't prove' speech, huh?" said Ron. "George told me about that one."

"Indeed. Between that and that old map I'm sure one of your children has, I believe I shall never rest."

They all laughed. "Lily has it," Harry confessed. "I knew she was trouble the minute she was born, and decided then and there she'd be the one to use it. I think she could wreak the most havoc." He grinned impishly. "And if not, she can always tell me if James is up to something he shouldn't be."

"Yes, Lily certainly is trouble. She was only three the first time she played a prank. And got away with it, too. Sometimes I wonder if Harry and I let her get away with too much."

"I doubt it, Ginny," said Minerva. "You love her very much. And children have a way of getting away with things and still turning out just fine."

"They certainly do."

Minerva reminisced for a few more minutes with her former students before they had to be on their way. She smiled at them and waved them out the door. As soon as it shut behind them, she slumped in her chair and sighed. It was hard to remember sometimes, especially when she thought of what she had lost.

She had lost her sister to death. She had lost her lover to lies. She had lost her best friend and her family to disapproval. But the biggest lost was her daughter. Minerva remembered her difficult pregnancy like it was yesterday. She'd been very sick for most of it, and the constant looks of disapproval and shame from her brother and his wife had been heart-breaking. The delivery was not easy either, but Minerva considered the moment she'd first held her beautiful daughter the highest point of her life.

_In the back of her mind, she knew that she hurt. She knew that she felt ill. But she found she didn't care. It had all been worth it, everything, just to have this tiny bundle in her arms. Minerva could not keep her eyes off of her daughter. She weighed no more than six ounces, had hardly any hair, and her skin was still the reddish colour of a newborn, but she was beautiful. She screamed like a banshee, too. _

_Minerva touched the infant's face, and her eyes flew open, revealing pale blue eyes. The shock of hair on her head was as dark as Minerva's own. This tiny child had given her purpose again, had given her back the fire she'd lost when she was only sixteen. And so Minerva called her Aithne, to honour this fire, and Holly, to honour the season in which she was born. She was perfect._

It had been hard, then, to be a single mother. She had always been particularly aware of the hard stares people would give her when she carried her baby around all alone. Even her brother had been less than supportive. She had lived with him throughout her pregnancy, and for the first year of Aithne's life. But when his hints that she should leave the child with him and his wife and go had grown too frequent for her liking, and she'd grown tired of his endless questions and nagging, she had found herself a job and a small, dingy apartment in which to raise her daughter.

Aithne had been her world. There were no more men, and she had no friends or family she spoke to on a regular basis. So Aithne had grown into a beautiful little girl, with dark curls, round cheeks, and brilliant eyes with just her mother for company. She had been a happy child, one of the happiest Minerva had ever seen, always giggling, and bubbling, and showing her mother this thing or that thing. And Minerva herself had never been happier.

But, unfortunately, it had not lasted. She struggled not to cry.

_It was January. Aithne was six years old, and happier than ever when she got sick. It wasn't any different, at first, then past colds and flus the tiny child had suffered through. She had simply had a fever. At first, Minerva hadn't worried. But when the fever grew worse and worse, no matter what she did, and Aithne's tiny body was wracked with chills, she was terrified. For the first time, she wished she had never left her brother's house, for both he and his wife were healers. And Minerva had no floo, nor phone, to contact him, or any other help._

_So she bundled the child in blankets, and carried her out the door and through the streets to the other side of London. She found herself once again on her brother's doorstep at an ungodly hour of morning. She pounded on the door and screamed for Patrick to come down._

_They did what they could to make her better. After only a few minutes, they ascertained that Aithne had dragon pox. By then, it was too late. There wasn't anything more to do. Not an hour later, little Aithne passed from the world, cuddled fast asleep in her mother's arms._

_It tore out Minerva's heart._

_The first few days, she was listless, almost catatonic. Aithne was buried beside her Aunt Brenna, both their lives tragically cut short. Soon after, Minerva grew angry. And then she was furious. And then she blamed Patrick. _

_She left London with only the clothes on her back and did not look back._

She was sobbing now, remembering the tiny body clutched in her arms, remembering her fury. The months after Aithne's death had been terrible. She remembered little, and what she did remember, she wanted to forget.

By December, Minerva had made her way to Hogsmeade. She remembered one morning, early, reading the paper, and finding an announcement that Albus Dumbledore, her old and favourite teacher, had been made Headmaster of Hogwarts and was looking for a new Transfiguration teacher. The announcement was a godsend. Her Transfiguration NEWT was the only one she'd gotten an O in, and Minerva found herself with nowhere left to go.

She did not even brush her hair in her haste to make it to the castle.

_She found Professor Dumbledore quickly. He was in the Entrance Hall, as if he had been waiting for her._

"_Minerva!" he crowed. "How nice to see you!"_

"_And you, Professor," she replied. _

"_What brings you here, my dear?"_

"_I, well, I saw the announcement in the Daily Prophet." She paused, and he nodded for her to continue. She took a deep breath. "Do you-Are you still-Do you still need a Transfiguration Professor?"_

"_As a matter of fact I do."_

_She was relieved. "I know I was a bit of a basket case during my NEWTS, sir, but this job would be a godsend. A dream come true. A chance to start my life again. I don't have anywhere else to go."_

_He smiled at her. "I would be glad to have you." She smiled back._

And so, she, Minerva McGonagall, became the Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She put a smile on her face and vowed to do everything she couldn't do for her daughter for her students.

It was the beginning of the rest of her life.


End file.
